


The Grand American Tradition

by boarsnsmores



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Gen, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swan Queen Week Winter 2016, Swan-Mills Family, and an anaconda, much food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boarsnsmores/pseuds/boarsnsmores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swan Queen Week Day 2 - Gluttony</p><p>Las Vegas: An adventure in buffets featuring the last crab leg, infinite bacon, and stolen gummy bears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand American Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't prepare ahead at all and used the lasagna card for the Lust prompt. My easy way out of this prompt gone, I've resorted to Vegas food hedonism. I get the feeling I'm not doing SQW right, but I'm apparently currently incapable of writing SQ without Henry and anything but absurd fluff at the moment. Sorry friends.
> 
> Also I really like Fluffy, more than I should like a character prop that appeared for 5 seconds.

"We need a vacation." Emma declares one day as she clomps through the door, scattering her boots off roughly into the area of the shoe rack and tossing her jacket haphazardly onto the coat rack.

It's late enough that Henry's already gone to sleep. Regina's in the armchair by the fireplace reading something probably written by a guy dead for a few centuries and looks up as Emma walks in, less making her way to the couch and more walking until the couch intersects with her path and collapsing onto it.

"Long day?" Regina asks, almost rhetorically.

"Fluffy." Emma says and there's no need to say anymore. She's griped about the legality and existence of an anaconda in Storybrooke ever since Fluffy escaped the first time. She'd wonder why Regina hasn't passed an ordinance to ban them but she knows Regina's got a blind spot large enough to park the Bug when it comes to children and Fluffy makes its owner happy, so Emma'll just have to suffer through the occasional late night and latent terror of being squeezed to death.

Regina hums her condolences, "Where would you want to go?"

Emma has to think for a moment; she's only gotten as far as _away_. "Dunno. You guys've never been out of Storybrooke, right? I mean, not really. Dramatic interventions by fate don’t count."

"In that case, no, I suppose not."

"Somewhere that's an American rite of passage then." Emma announces into the couch cushion for Regina to overhear, "Classic and traditional Americana. Fun for the whole family. Something for everyone."

* * *

"Emma, how is this 'classic and traditional Americana' in any way, shape, or form?" Regina asks as they're standing in an admittedly well-structured but packed line as advertisements for things like a Garth Brooks concert and the latest Cirque du Soleil act scroll by on screens.

Emma slings her arm over Regina's shoulder and makes a grand sweeping motion with her other arm, "Just picture it, Regina - food as far as the eye can see, wall-to-wall, steaming as they dry under cheap heat lamps, all for the taking! Plates piled high with the finest cuisine mass-production has to offer! You're only limited by your stomach capacity and self-respect! What could be more American than that?"

Regina rolls her eyes, "I was a Queen once, Emma, I'm well aware of what opulence and gluttony look like."

"Yea, but you haven't lived until you've had to fight off a grown adult for the last cupcake on a tray. Don't worry Henry, I'll teach you the ways of platter combat."

Emma grins at Henry and he grins back at her and they both look so excited and happy to be ingesting enough sodium and sugar to fell small ogres that Regina can't bring herself to lecture them on it. They're on vacation, after all.

* * *

To everyone's surprise, it's Regina, not Emma, who gets them banned from Caesar's Palace, although Regina blames Emma.

"He called you a bitch!" Emma defends later that night, when they're going through their nightly routines.

"Yes, and not only have I been called worse by far less insignificant people, that was the tactic of an immature child who knows he's lost the argument and must resort to baseless name calling to convince himself that he can still win. Only an even more immature child would resort to _fisticuffs_ over something so inane."

"You brained him with your plate!"

" _After_ you hit him! I was worried!"

"I had it under control!"

"He was twice your size and had you in a choke hold!"

"Planned!"

Regina scoffs and they both glare until Emma relents with a sigh, "Look, this is a stupid thing to fight over. Let's just split the blame, agree that the guy was a douche, and be glad the worst of it was hotel security banning us after throwing us out."

Regina still thinks it was more Emma's fault than her own, but Emma's not wrong in that this is, in fact, a petty thing to argue about and she's been doing better at this 'compromising' thing since they got together.

"That last crab leg was most certainly mine." Regina says, her way of agreeing to move past the issue.

"Well, yeah. Anyone with a brain could see that."

* * *

The sound of klaxons rings through their hotel room at precisely 5:15AM.

Neither Emma nor Regina are morning people, but the hotel's continental breakfast buffet opens at 6 and if they get there too late, all they'll have is cold oatmeal and the congealed fat of bacon lost and Emma refuses to be denied bacon.

Emma forces herself up and then shakes Regina's shoulder, "Hey. Hey. Hey. Get up. We gotta get going."

"No. Go away." comes Regina's voice, muffled by the pillow, "I'm not leaving and you can't make me."

Normally, Emma'd find Regina's morning petulance adorable, despite Regina's insistence to the contrary, but there's Vegas bacon in a trough waiting for someone to eat it and it's going to be Emma, damnit.

"Can't, huh?" Emma asks before pulling at the sheet, causing Regina to roll off their bed, screeching the entire one foot drop.

"Ms. Swan!" Regina shrieks indignantly and how is their son sleeping through this racket?

"Bacon, Regina! It waits for no one!" And Emma heads to the bathroom to fill a glass of cold water to threaten their son with.

* * *

"Emma, I know you've been...excited to have bacon, but perhaps this is...a little much?" Regina asks as she and Henry both stare in horror at Emma's plate. Emma's plate comprises solely of bacon and Regina thinks she can see the fat pool into a measurable puddle at the base of what Henry dubs 'Bacon Mountain'.

"Nope!" Emma responds happily, demolishing the now Bacon Molehill with surprising gusto and lack of nausea.

"You're gonna get sick, Emma." Henry advises as he cuts into his omelet, the only thing Regina deemed acceptable in "this wasteland of heart attacks waiting to happen for the sake of sub-par food whose defining flavor is greasy."

"No way, kid! Can't bring this iron stomach down." Emma says, patting at her slightly protruding gut, "And besides, you gotta seize the opportunity, Henry. You know what we can get back in Storybrooke? Omelets. You know what we can't get back in Storybrooke? As much bacon as we can possibly fit in our bodies."

Much to Regina's satisfaction, Henry looks as though he's not entirely sure that the lack of infinite bacon in Storybrooke is a bad thing, "If you say so, Emma."

* * *

"Iron stomach, hm?" Regina asks, humor teasing her voice.

"Shut up, Regina." Emma moans as she lies on their bed, curled up in the fetal position. Regina perches next to her and pats her shoulder gently, "We did warn you, you know."

"Bacon was never supposed to betray me." Emma whines.

"Yes well, I suspect it was more the sheer quantity of bacon rather than the bacon itself that's caused this. That or food poisoning - those sausage links looked a little suspicious but I couldn't quite tell with the speed of their disappearance and the distracting sheen of fat."

"Don't rub it in. I already feel like shit."

"Language, dear." Regina chides lightly, "Does this means you'll be passing on lunch? The internet recommends the Sterling Brunch buffet at Bally's. They've linens, Emma. A low standard for class I’ll admit, but so rare in this city of middling hedonism. Oh, lobster and champagne too. It's a little early for a good red, I suppose."

Emma just groans although Regina can't tell if it's because of regret from the bacon or regret at missing another chance to throw any and all self-respect out the window for one last plate of food. Regina takes pity on her though, "We could just order room service and keep you company, if you'd like. I'm sure neither Henry nor I will carry eternal regret for missing the buffet."

Emma waves one hand, keeping the other on her stomach as if that'll improve its condition, "No, no, you guys should go. I've done Vegas, the not PG-13 rated version of it even. Henry needs to enjoy the blatant hedonism before we return to Storybrooke and the surprisingly health-conscious food selection at the grocery store."

Regina wants to inquire about what Emma means when she says 'not PG-13' but they have the rest of their lives to relive it. "If you say so, dear."

They wait until room service comes up with the warm glass of steeped ginger Regina ordered. She and Henry help prop her up and make sure she can keep it down. If that's not love, Emma doesn't know what is and she says as much.

"You're a sap when you're sick, Emma." Henry says and Regina just smiles, "We'll bring you something back." They leave and Emma settles back into bed and dozes off, belly warm from either the ginger or family. She can afford to believe in the latter now.

* * *

Emma wakes up when they return because Henry slams into the door and she can hear Regina behind him, "Quietly, Henry!"

Henry ruins whatever attempts Regina wanted to make at not disturbing her rest when he rushes to her bed, "Emma, Emma, look!" and he empties his jacket pockets of small bunches of napkins.

"Uh, kid, what am I looking at?"

He unwraps one and a rainbow of gummy bears tumbles out onto the bed, "They had them at the dessert bar and they were so soft! I've never had gummy bears so soft! The ones at the grocery store always hurt my jaw and Mom doesn't like me eating them anyway but I brought these back for you!"

Emma squints suspiciously at the napkins now, noticing the large number of them, "Jeez kid, did you steal the entire container or something?"

Silence.

"We didn't get caught." Regina offers up, "And Henry was insistent on sharing these with you even if I certainly don't approve of this amount of sugar."

"Mom hid me while I did it. She felt bad you couldn't be there and she knows you like these." Henry whispers into Emma's ear, loudly enough that Emma's sure Regina heard too.

“Thanks, kid, I’m sure these are definitely all for me and not because you wanted more.” Emma jokes, ruffling Henry’s hair.

“Well sharing is caring, Emma. You wouldn’t want to teach me bad moral lessons, would you?” he sasses right back.

Regina has a plastic bag in one hand and when she takes its contents out, Emma sees that it's a doggie bag in the shape of-

"A swan, really?"

"I thought you could appreciate it." Regina says as she puts it in the fridge before crossing back to the bed, kissing Emma lightly when she gets there. "Salad and a steak for when you can keep them down. You should appreciate _some_ quality food while we're here."

They spend the rest of the day at the Fountains of Bellagio and swimming at the Mandalay Bay. The live birds they keep at the front desk fascinate Henry until one craps on him and then Regina pulls them away, citing bird flu and an entire list of viruses that Emma never knew existed. 

When Emma finally gets to the food in the fridge, the salad's gone limp and the microwave makes the steak chewy, but damn, it's the best meal she's had in Vegas. She thinks she's getting sentimental in her old age, but as she watches Henry and Regina fail repeatedly at the crane machine, she's okay with it. Family's a good thing to go soft for.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm available here and on [tumblr](http://boarsnsmores.tumblr.com/). You should come say hello, comment on my mistakes, and/or give me prompts.


End file.
